Slipping on a Fruit Peel
by Jemmiah
Summary: ObiWan's misunderstanding leads to some 'pithy' comments from his master!


**Slipping on a Fruit Peel **

**By Jemmiah**

He looked at himself in the mirror, his blue eyes taking in the reflection held within the glass for his closer inspection. Saying that he had a bad feeling about things didn't really cut any ice with his master; not this evening, but it was little more than the truth. Ever since he had first heard of the Chancellor's party and the request that had subsequently come back to them through the council that they should attend, Obi-Wan's thumbs had well and truly prickled. Qui-Gon of course had remained stoically deaf to his repeated warnings, not because he couldn't see the difficulties that might arise but because it didn't pay to dwell upon them overmuch.

But dwell on them Obi-Wan did.

"Pointless." Obi-Wan grumbled as he pulled on his trousers, hopping momentarily on one foot as he attempted to untangle the other from the twisted fabric. "I don't care if it is in a good cause. These type of things always end in disaster…"

He wasn't a party animal by nature. He knew Jedi that were, but in truth Obi-Wan felt more comfortable amongst select groups of people that he knew and trusted. Whilst he'd had his moments on the social scene it wasn't necessarily something he took great delight in. He'd leave that to the likes of Padawan Abran or Master Berlingside, or even his good friend Jemmy.

Force knew what she would make of this…

Boots…where were his blasted boots? Qui-Gon was right: when one lost one's cool all semblance of concentration flew right out the window. He couldn't find things he knew should be there. The number of times he'd stolen a quick glance at his chrono since his master had retreated to the fresher to dress had now run into double figures. No doubt something would happen at this party, although what could possibly be worse than attending in the first place?

With a heavy sigh the padawan gave a sharp tug on his trousers until finally his foot freed itself, nearly sending him staggering backwards into a table. It wasn't fair! Even if he was determined not to whine about it in front of Qui-Gon didn't mean he couldn't mope in private. His fingers fumbled with the opening of his upper garments, the cream layers tight against his skin. Jemmy always told him he swaggered like a pirate when he walked, and whilst it was never intentional he'd become rather self-conscious about it, liking the idea of developing his confident special gait…

"Not much chance of swaggering tonight." Obi-Wan remarked tersely, examining his reflection from each side. Had he put on a little weight, he wondered bleakly? Everything seemed so tight and restricting, not at all like his usual, fluid and billowing self. "Not much chance of anything tonight - except perhaps humiliation."

Struggling to put on his outer garments Obi-Wan paused long enough to wonder if there wasn't perhaps more to life than the sort of thing he and his master were about to embark on. Diplomatic missions, negotiations, acting as ambassadors and representatives for peace and unity…and the odd, unpopular invite to one of the Chancellor's charity functions. He'd frankly rather have stayed at home and meditated on his knees for five hours - and that was saying something!

"Damn fastening." Obi-Wan grunted, pulling at the belt that held the whole ensemble together. "What's the matter with you tonight? You're all fingers and thumbs! Can't go to this affair half-dressed…"

There. Finished.

Not his usual look, he admitted self-critically as he stepped a few paces close to the mirror, although he was of the opinion that the colour seemed to bring out the beautiful blue shade in his stormy, sea-swept eyes. The boots were shiny and clean: ready to step forth onto the streets of Coruscant. Even if he himself was not ready to do the same!

"It's time to go, padawan." Qui-Gon clumped into the room, stepping exaggeratedly towards his apprentice; every footfall accompanied by loud, metallic clanking. "This visor's could do with some oiling, however. I'm rather afraid that it's going to get stuck…" To prove his point Qui-Gon's mailed fingers swatted impotently at the metal grill before his eyes before finally finding their target, wrenching the eye shield backwards so that he could finally see where he was going.

He faltered momentarily, his mouth replicating the open visor that hung on its metal hinge.

"Padawan," he said at length, as Obi-Wan stared back in a similar state of confusion, "Whatever do you think you are wearing?"

Obi-Wan looked down at his pink boots. And his pink trousers. What he could see of them over his round, pink bulbous body suit split by its cream layers. Not to mention his little pink hat with the green stalk…

"My costume." He blinked back incredulously at Qui-Gon. "Whatever are_you_ wearing, master?"

"_My _costume is fine! It's_your_ costume that is all wrong! We're supposed to be knights! Old fashioned knights with plumes and shields and metal swords! If someone attacked you in the street you'd have to turn them into squash!" Jinn groaned, turning away. "I knew this would happen. I had a bad feeling from the start…

"You never said anything!" Retorted Obi-Wan brusquely. "You said that the fancy dress party was in aid of Coruscant's Sick Children and that we just had to grin and bear it!"

"I said go to the outfit hire shop and pick up your metal suit!"

The padawan swallowed. "I thought you said petal fruit…"

Qui-Gon was distinctly unhappy, Obi-Wan thought as he reflected bitterly on the moment, so much so that his visor had jammed shut again. At least it spared him from seeing the man's disapproval. It had gone wrong from the moment they'd received the invite to the moment he'd slipped on that fruit peel costume. The Chancellor would probably think it hilarious, but then again he was a politician and they had a very select sense of humour. If anyone so much as laughed at him he'd give them a kick in the pips they'd never forget!

It was going to be one of those evenings, Obi-Wan could tell…


End file.
